The Next Generation
by Bekahbee
Summary: A dark stranger takes over and rebuilds the Deadly Viper Association. The five new members meet each other, never realizing that their destinies are closely intertwined.


**Cozumel, Mexico**

"You might be wondering why I've called you all here today…away from your jobs, your families, your lives…" The man in the black silken cowboy hat chuckled and took a deep drag from his cigar.

"I'm here to tell you about a new way to live. A way that you all have been suppressing…with little success, might I add." To this, the man in the black hat gazed at the five faces around the table, smiling wide at each and every one of them.

"None of you know each other. You may get to know each other later. That's fine. I don't really give a shit. But for now, you will only be referred to by your new names."

"The Desert Death Adder…" He gave a lazy grin toward a young woman with long, pure white hair. She nodded, a bit puzzled.

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Bertie Winters had long since stopped trying to suppress her natural urges. It was like telling oneself not to breathe.

Her first, however, had been an accident. He had been far too close to the edge of a precarious landing.

The remaining ones were more deserving, she thought. To kill was an almost instinctual. It had become a fierce hobby, and one she couldn't imagine herself without.

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"The Fer-de-lance…" The man in the black cowboy hat turned his focus toward an attractive Latin American woman in her early forties.

She scowled at him, more than well aware of his intentions.

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Alexandria Moran was ruthless. Her business was ruthless, her attitude was ruthless. She was as cutthroat as they come, and she knew what it took to make it in the world.

Perhaps she went too far every now and then. It didn't matter. No one she singled out was really missed. And even if they were, no one dared defy or question her.

She was just that kind of ruthless.

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"You, my good man, are King Cobra…" The man in the black cowboy hat put his hands on the shoulders of an elderly gunsmith.

His trigger finger was itching, as well as every other part of him. Sitting down did not agree with him at all.

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Vance Carson Middleton had many itches that needed to be scratched in one way or another. Sometimes indulging in the scratch proved too dangerous or tempting, but weren't all good things truly a sin in the eyes of God?

Maybe the things _he_ thought were good.

Vance had many different kinds of itches, and sometimes, to avoid being caught, he had someone else do the scratching.

It was a good life.

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"My dear Massasauga. The one that's looking at me like she wants to kill me." The man in the black cowboy hat taunted the pretty African American girl.

After all, she knew what came of the call to action.

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Nikki had never forgotten. She would never forget as long as she was of sound mind and body.

She hadn't been able to move on since. Maybe that was why she decided to meet the man with the black cowboy hat to see what he had to say.

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"And finally, last but not least…the pride of my efforts…the Red Diamond Rattlesnake." The man in the black cowboy hat put his arm around the green-eyed redhead, fresh out of high school.

She hid the fact that she adored attention and accolades. It was something she never wanted to admit that she craved.

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Natalie Kane was out of control. Juvenile Retention, house arrest, numerous convictions…all proved worthless in the way of making her change.

Natalie ran away. She did what she wanted with whomever she wanted when she wanted. It was useless to try and convince someone otherwise when they thought they already had everything figured out.

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"And just who the hell are you?" King Cobra asked the man in the black cowboy hat.

The man in the black cowboy hat gave him an impertinent smile.

"You can call me…Bushmaster."


End file.
